The Fairytale Mother
Once upon a time two lives intertwined…
A broken heart.
When Andrew Krenshaw’s wife goes missing, terror becomes desperation as he is forced to cope with a world of uncertainty where he has suddenly become a single father, an unfortunate celebrity… a potential murderer.
A hopeful heart.
Melanie Tull has everything she ever wanted in her life… except perhaps love. Her husband is absent and demanding all at once. Her home, a shell of perfection with a cold center. Her life, busy yet vacant.
… Herein lies the tale that binds them.
After a childhood spent living in various northern states–New Jersey for half of that (South Jersey, exit 4, to be exact)–she struck out on her own. First stop, Atlanta, Georgia. After attending GA Tech to study Industrial Engineering, she settled down in a small town outside the city where she has remained ever since. She keeps house for one husband, two sons, and a thankless dog (who she adores anyway). Her loves: books, bacon, bargains… heavy metal, Christmas movies… a great pair of jeans… and anything cheesy. The four dirtiest words she knows: wash, cook, dust, iron.
Follow the Book Tour!
“Oh my God!” Melanie dropped the armload of toiletries she’d been dispersing to the bathrooms. “You
scared me,” she chided, when she realized it was Paul and not some psycho killer standing in the shadows at
the dead end of the hallway leading to the bathroom the kids shared. The residual tingling in her nerve endings
remained, as adrenaline continued to flush her system. And she couldn’t shake the creepy feeling as she took in
the haunted look on his face, staring back at her as if she was out of place and time, when he was the one sneaking
around in the house when he should be at work.
“You’re home.” His voice was chilly.
“Of course I’m home.” She matched his tone. She hadn’t hidden that fact. She’d made plenty of noise while
she put away the groceries, plus there was the TV she could hear from here, left on to occupy Matty. He must have
parked in the garage, she realized. She hadn’t even bothered opening the door because it was more of a pain to
unload groceries from inside.
“I couldn’t reach you.”
“I didn’t realize you needed me.” Bitterness now—that he was making her feel like she needed to defend
“Is your cell not working, or did you forget it again?” he asked gruffly.
“I turned it off.”
“What’s the point of you having one if I can’t—”
“Check up on me?” she challenged.
“That’s not what I mean. I—”
“I don’t know what you think I’m up to, or where you think I go during the day, or what the big deal is, Paul,
but you’re acting—” —worse than usual. She left the charge hanging there, though, unsaid.
“I thought that the reason we had these phones was so we could reach each other if there was something
“Something important you needed to share?”
“I was just concerned… when my calls went straight to voice mail like that.”
“So you came home from work to ask me why I’m not answering my phone?…”